Bird Catcher
by Helvetica Black
Summary: Everyone she loved always ended up leaving her, because that was how people were. And that was okay, as long as she had the birds.


She wasn't crazy. She really wasn't. She wasn't as bonkers as she surely looked: tattered clothes and muddy boots, blood-streaked cheeks and dirt-crusted fingernails, a dead bird in her cold hands. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't seeing or hearing things that weren't there. She wasn't hurting anyone. Why did everyone look at her like she was _crazy_? There was nothing wrong about eating birds. Humans did it all the time.

She stared at the bird in her hands. A seagull. The usual kill. Didn't fly as high as the cranes, but they were easier to catch. Its feathers were pristine white except where she bit it and drank its blood.

"Bella."

She looked up from the dead seagull. "Edward."

"Are you done hunting?"

"I don't know," She glanced at the bird and the burning in her throat began to sting a little. Fifteen was her usual quota, and this was supposed to be the last one. "I don't think so. It's a small one this time. I might have to catch another one."

Edward grimaced at the sight of the bird, then he flashed her a pained smile. She didn't know why he always smiled at her like that, like he was looking at someone who was lost forever. Like he thought she was nuts. She wasn't. She just ate birds.

Edward fidgeted. "Should I wait for you?"

It was the first time he'd asked. Before, he'd always just waited anyway. He'd hunt his mountain lions while she hunted for her birds, then he'd wait if she still wasn't done. It wasn't the easiest thing, hunting birds. She didn't shoot them or throw rocks at them, she jumped and ran after them, climbed the highest trees for even just the chance of grasping their feathered wings.

There was little to no chance of them fighting each other when they hunted; they went for totally different prey.

She wasn't bothered by the fact that he would even ask. She was way past caring what people did. But she did wonder: was her choice of prey really that disgusting? Birds tasted okay when you got used to them. And they were more fun to catch.

"Only if you want to," she said, tossing the dead seagull on the sand. Its other companions were gone, scared away by the graceful predator that killed their friend. No matter, she thought. There were always others.

Edward gave her a small smile and took a small step back, telling her that he would wait, just like he always did before. But there was something hesitant about it, like he wasn't quite sure why he should wait, if he even really should. She felt him withdraw with his distant smile. She was losing him, but that didn't bother her overmuch. It didn't bother her as much as it used to. She knew she would lose him eventually. Everyone she loved always ended up leaving her, because that was how people were. And that was okay, as long as she had the birds.

People didn't fly but always left. Birds flew, but they were so much easier to catch.

When she caught her last bird, a swan, they returned home. It was his home more than it was hers, just like how most things were: her heart, her soul, her everything.

Now she had nothing but the birds, and they were never his. The birds were hers and hers alone.

The house was empty. The others wanted to give the couple some time alone.

Her shower wasn't filled with thoughts. She didn't think as much now that she was a vampire. She only experienced, talked, _fed_. Thinking was useless. When you knew that life was all about losing and losing the ones you love over and over again, thinking about anything at all became a tedious chore.

As she stepped out of the shower, she saw Edward standing just by the open doorway, his face a brooding mask. She sighed, wishing that the others hadn't left. Being alone with Edward was unrewarding, tiring at most. She didn't understand why the others wanted to leave her alone with him. The only ones she wanted to be alone with were the birds.

"Edward," she said, "You want to use this bathroom too?"

"We need to talk."

The last time he said anything like that, he broke her heart. Now there was none of it left, so she sighed and said, "Sure." She walked to a chair and sat down, encouraged Edward to do the same. When he didn't, she only smiled. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Your... choice of food."

She expected as much. Every chance he got, he asked her about the birds. "What about it?"

He tried to choose his words. "It can't be good, all that bird blood."

"Really? It tastes fine to me."

"It's repulsive," he hissed. "I don't know why you do this to yourself, Bella. Is this my punishment?"

"_Punishment_?" That was new. "Why would I punish you?"

The scowl on his face almost seemed deep enough to ruin his cheeks. "Because I left you. I can't help but think that you're hurting yourself like this because of me."

"That's stupid, considering my diet has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you."

He flailed his arms in frustration. "Then enlighten me, Bella. Why are you doing this? Why are you feeding on birds?"

She shrugged. There was only one answer. "I like birds."

"So do I, but I don't like drinking their blood."

"Well, I don't just like _some_ things about birds and not like the rest. I either like or don't like birds, and I do like them. I like everything about them. So I drink their blood."

"Is it my fault? Because you thought I only loved some things about you and not the others, your courage but not your insecurities?"

"What? Where do you get that from? I didn't say anything like that. Did you hear anything I said at all?"

"I did. It seems to me like you are somehow using birds as some kind of personal vendetta. And I implore you, please don't. Don't hurt yourself like this."

She rose from her seat. "I am not hurting myself! Don't you understand? I actually like eating birds! Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes! Yes, it is hard to believe, Bella! We are not made to eat _birds_!"

"You're being absurd. I hurt no one with my diet. Why are you so bothered by what I eat? Do you want to control what goes into my mouth, too? Do you want to be my god?"

"I want you to stop eating birds!"

"Why? You can eat mountain lions, Emmett can eat bears, and I can't eat birds? That makes absolutely no sense!"

"It's not normal, Bella," he whispers, his voice suddenly calm and collected. "I don't understand why you would do such a thing. I really do not understand."

She sighed. "No," she said, "Quite obviously, you don't."

Edward would never understand. Nobody would. He wouldn't understand why she loved birds for being simple, nonmaleficent creatures. Birds can never hurt her, and even if they flew away and left, they wouldn't leave with a chunk of her in their talons. They would never let her hope for permanence then steal her hopes away from right under her nose. They left all the time, yes, but they never promised to stay in the first place. Birds can never hurt her the way people can.

She loved birds, they were the only ones she was capable of loving. And what a vampire loved, a vampire ate. It was simple.

But Edward would never understand, and Bella was fine with that. Only the birds mattered to her now. The birds that flew, but when caught, stayed with her until they died.

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**A/N: Please REVIEW! **


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